


Transformation

by chwheeler



Category: Some Like It Hot (1959)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 01:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2005446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwheeler/pseuds/chwheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, how do I look?” Joe turned and showed off the dress he had donned.</p>
<p>“Ridiculous.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transformation

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Some Like it Hot or any of the characters depicted in this work of fiction. I am not making any sort of profit from this fic. It was done purely for fun!
> 
> I found this in one of my notebooks from quite a while ago, something I had forgotten about. Rereading it made me smile, so I thought it deserved airing out and posting.

“Ow!” Jerry grasped his hand over the fresh cut on his leg. “Joe, this was a bad idea. I’ve been a woman for two minutes and already I’m having pains.” Trouser-less, he sat on the tub edge, a shaving razor in hand.

“Hey, this was your idea before the mob decided we’d make nice living room carpets.” Joe, already shaven, was in the bedroom trying on clothing. It was familiar clothing, only he was more familiar with taking it off.

Another “Ow!” echoed from the bathroom. Joe laughed to himself, imagining little toilet paper squares covering Jerry’s pale, skinny legs. Jerry finally exited the bathroom, wearing a robe over his woman’s underthings.

“So, how do I look?” Joe turned and showed off the dress he had donned.

“Ridiculous.” Jerry received a face-full of cherry blonde synthetic hair. “Now, Josephine, that wasn’t very ladylike.” He plopped the wig on his head, arranging the curls.

“Your face isn’t very ladylike, it’s got no makeup. Will you hurry up, the train leaves in an hour!” Joe placed his own wig upon his head, nearly finished with his look. Observing himself in the mirror, he practiced his, no, Josephine’s stance. He wanted her to be sophisticated and refined, two things that had seemed to elude his normal self.

“Well, now we know why the girls were always in so much earlier than the band. They were busy painting masterpieces on their faces.”

“Stop talking and finish painting, Van Gogh. Hand me those shoes.”

Jerry passed a pair of heels across the bed. After putting them on, Joe stood up gingerly. What had seemed to be quite conservative heels suddenly seemed to be towers. Joe was silently amazed the difference a few inches could make on perspective.

He wobbled over to the dresser and grabbed the last of his things that needed to be shoved into the suitcases. As the snap of the case clicked shut, Jerry stood up in his own heels. He took equally wobbly steps over to his own suitcase and instrument bag.

After grabbing their own personal effects and new feminine winter coats, they were finally ready to go. They eyed each other up and down, inspecting the final products of their transformations. A few awkward moments passed before Jerry shrugged. “Florida, here we come!”


End file.
